"Good morning, McLean."
"Fuck. Who is this?"
"Now, what kind of a greeting is that?"
"Uh. Bass."
"And I repeat, good morning to you."
"You know I have people killed who wake me up before noon?"
"Nah, 's just what you like people to think."
AJ grunted.
"So," Lance continued, "you going to pay up tonight?"
"Pay... up?"
Lance tutted. "You know, McLean, boys who can't tell hearts from diamonds really shouldn't get into poker games."
"Oh, fuck."
"Yeah. You are free tonight, I take it?"
"Free for..."
"You're really not a morning person, are you. You owe me your ass."
"Oh, fuck!"
"Mm hmm. I'm holding an IOU for one AJ McLean, sex slave."
"Fuck."
"That's the plan."
* * *
AJ had thought about Lance Bass, of course he had. He'd fantasised about debauching that soft, innocent flesh, about deep desperate moans and tightness and wide, astonished eyes...
The Lance Bass standing in front of him almost seemed to fit in with his fantasies, the way he was smiling that friendly, toothsome grin, all sunshine and wholesomeness, then somehow, something changed, and AJ could practically feel his spine melting as those eyes focussed right in on him.
"So-o-o," Lance drawled.
AJ coughed. "Not really much for the slave attitude, y'know," he began. He was willing - more than willing - to go for the sex part, but -
"You welshing on a bet?" Lance looked disapproving. There was eyebrow action.
"Uh, no. Course not."
"Glad to hear it. Take that shirt off."
AJ hesitated, but somehow, not doing it was going to be more embarrassing, even more embarrassing, than playing along with this slave thing. He took off his shirt, slowly, making a show of it.
"Shoes next." AJ took off his socks as well.
"Now. Give me your hands," Lance ordered. What, was he going to be handcuffed, or something? Not ready for that, not with someone he hadn't been with before. But no, not handcuffs. Lance produced two broad leather wristbands and fitted them round AJ's wrists and palms. Snug, but not too tight. Sexy. Sort of thing he liked to choose for himself, but feeling Lance buckle them onto him...
Lance leant close, murmured into his ear. "Just to remind you that you're mine tonight." And dammit if AJ couldn't feel that bass rumble right down to his groin. "Lie down," Lance said, and AJ spread himself on the bed. Welshing on a bet, hah.
Lance turned off the main lights. Only the lamp beside the bed, now, casting bright gleams on to his left side. AJ closed his eyes for a moment, and felt something trickle on his chest. Over his belly. Then hands, spreading across his body, smoothing body-temperature oil over him, down his sides, along his arms and shoulders, even caressing his neck and face with the slippery warmth. His breath quickened as the hands spread back over his belly, and he clamped his jaws shut on the telltale sounds he almost found himself making. Forced himself to lie passively, cruciform on the bed.
Then the hands were gone. He couldn't see Lance, now, Lance had retreated into the shadows of the room. But he could hear Lance, oh yes, talking to him, telling him in lewd and explicit detail exactly what Lance was going to do to him, where and how Lance was going to touch him and tease him and fuck him, and god! He closed his eyes and tensed every muscle against the urge to move, to writhe and beg Lance to do, for fuck's sake to do all those things he was saying.
There was a short pause, and a rustle. AJ peered into the shadows but could discern nothing.
"Undo your pants," came the command. AJ snapped open the fastener and slid the zipper down with hands that shook, just a little. "Pull them down." He tugged at the close-fitting leather, and felt a corresponding tug at the bottom of his legs. Without raising his head, he could just see that Lance was there, at the food of the bed. The pants peeled slowly away until he was naked.
More warm oil.
"Touch yourself. Your cock. Slowly."
He did, hands slippery with the fresh oil, sliding over his hard, straining shaft as slowly as he could bear. He wanted to pump hard, thrust into his hand, get back in control of what was happening here on his bed, but more than that, he wanted to wait for what Lance was going to do, wanted to be used ruthlessly, wanted it with a fascination that overwhelmed him.
"Now come here. Off the bed, on your knees." AJ slithered down and knelt in front of the shadowed figure. Lance's erection, ready for his eager attention. AJ bowed over it, took the velvety tip into his mouth. Put his hands onto naked thighs, and began. Slowly. Not going to leave Lance totally in command. He could torment, too. Long, lazy licks and swirls, slick hands on shaft and balls and thighs, suction, tongue, never quite setting up a rhythm, and all the time Lance's hands gentle against the sides of his face, and encouragement like the bass line of a song thrumming in his ears. If this was being a sex slave, AJ could deal with it just fine.
"Enough," Lance said firmly. AJ bridled. Nowhere near finished yet. But Lance hauled him up and, whoa, onto his stomach, kneeling at the edge of the bed... And now there were fingers, slick fingers trailing down his spine and between his buttocks and tickling at the tender skin beneath, and he couldn't help but squirm and spread his legs a little more. "You okay with this?"
"I, um. Guess so," AJ muttered into the bedspread. Wasn't that he didn't ever want to bottom, just that he had only actually done it twice, and he wasn't sure... which he wasn't going to admit, right now, because if he did it was possible Lance would stop and that would be bad, but—
"I think perhaps we'll try something else," said Lance into AJ's ear. "Lie back on the bed, like you were before."
This time AJ could appreciate the view. Lance wasn't hidden in the shadows, he was there, illuminated by the same light that gleamed on AJ's own body. There was a quite predatory smile on his face as he ripped open a condom wrapper - fucking boy scout, when did he pick that up? - and eased it over AJ's cock. AJ jumped with surprise, earning a brief slap on the hip and an admonition to keep still. Then Lance was slicking him up and straddling him and sweet jesus impaling himself slowly on AJ, fuck that was hot and tight and amazing and his face, his face, all concentration and bliss. AJ stared and reminded himself to breathe.
"Don't you dare move," Lance told him, sliding his hands down AJ's chest. "Fuck, you look so hot like that. Don't you move." He leaned forward for a kiss, wriggling down onto AJ, who groaned and opened his mouth. Lance's tongue, possessing him, Lance taking him in, sliding up and down, setting the pace and the depth, totally in control, as if Lance were the one doing the fucking. AJ gave himself up to it. Moaned helplessly as the sensations built through his body, as Lance held his wrists to the bed and rode him ruthlessly until he couldn't hold back any more, couldn't keep still, bucked and cried out and climaxed, and felt the hot spurts of Lance's ejaculate on his chest.
AJ was still gasping and boneless when Lance came back to the bed with a washcloth. "You make the most beautiful slave," he said appreciatively, as he wiped AJ clean.
"Have a lot of sex slaves, do you?" AJ muttered. He was not going to be all submissive and grateful, he was not! But, wow.
"Actually, you're my first," Lance admitted with a bright smile.
Fuck, that was almost frightening. AJ thought about a Lance Bass who had experience with being a slave master. Jeez. He could make... he could do... he couldn't be getting hard again, could he? Already?
"We aren't finished yet, you know," Lance said into his right ear. "My IOU says one night. And I still want to fuck you."
AJ coughed. "About that," he began.
"Not really getting the slave thing, here, hmm? See, what happens is I tell you what I want, and then we do it." Lance was still grinning at him, with a hint of amusement in his eyes. AJ glared. "And don't tell me you don't want to feel my cock inside you. Don't say you didn't get hard when I told you what I was going to do to you. Not unless you really, really mean it, Alex." Lance held AJ by the chin, and looked into his eyes. "Okay?"
"Arrogant fucker," AJ said crossly.
So Lance turned him over and did all manner of evil things involving fingers and tongue until AJ swore and pleaded and promised retribution. Then Lance fucked him slowly and then fucked him fast and didn't stop until AJ was gasping and boneless again.
* * *
They woke late, next morning, but Lance decreed that he had not had a full twelve hours yet, so they lay languorously on their sides sucking one another off, until languor was no longer an option.
* * *
AJ poured the coffee, and silently passed Lance a plate of toast, then sat back cautiously in his chair, careful to display his naked limbs to best advantage. He never wore more than boxers to breakfast in his own kitchen, and it was plain that Lance appreciated the view.
"So," he said, "you reckon we might do this again sometime?"
"You know you're too fucking fabulous to resist."
"True enough." AJ smothered a smirk. "So how come you managed to resist me until you won my ass in a poker game?"
"Oh," said Lance, who had no right to be able to look that innocent, no right at all, "I like to be in control."
And AJ's thoughts were immediately filled with the desire, the determination, to make Lance lose that control. To have him writhing, helpless, and begging. "So... when's the next game?"
"Any time, McLean. Any time."
There's a remix of this story here which you should read now!